


all i need is you

by nouiszouis, strong



Series: Monthshots! [16]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, French Louis, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Makeup Artist Harry, Making Out, Model Louis, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smut, Teasing, thats enough i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouiszouis/pseuds/nouiszouis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strong/pseuds/strong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is a makeup artist and louis is a french underwear model with soft lips and a pretty accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i need is you

**Author's Note:**

> day 16!!
> 
> this was supposed to be a lot better and longer but i ran out of the time. who could've guessed that would happen.
> 
> anyways, it's french louis and i had my friend ellie (lovedyoufirst on ao3) translate a lot, but some things still might be wishy washy so bear with me!
> 
> title is from 'all i need' by awolnation

"Goodmorning, darling. We've got a big day ahead of us," Mila chimes just a minute after Harry walks in the studio.

Harry's got on skin-tight jeans, suede Saint Laurent ankle boots, a deep blue headscarf, and an oversized grey hoodie that he found lying on the ground in the corner of the room. All around him there's skinny girls and stereotypically flamboyant guys cloaked in clothing items straight from the runway and it makes him feel a bit out of place but also somewhat special in the fact that he hasn't succumb to the fashion industry's mindset yet.

"Looking forward to it," he replies with a sarcastic tone.

His job at the studio is to be a real life version of Photoshop, making all of the models' faces look perfect enough to be mistaken for Barbies or Ken dolls. He's only been working with the studio for a little over a year but he's well known for being great and they have no problem with calling him in for full-day shoots for huge name brand labels.

Today is a shoot for Calvin Klein so they've got a decent mixture of male and female models waiting for their turn to pose. All he can focus on is the fact that there'll be guys prancing around in only pairs of tight briefs. It's something he can definitely get behind- figuratively _and_ literally.

Carefully maneuvering himself through the scattered bodies, he gets to his station in a room that's set off from the actual set and clothing areas. There's wide open space for all of the actual photoshoot stuff since so many people are constantly shuffling around, but all there needs to be for makeup is a room down the hall with a door that's almost permanently closed to outsiders.

There's only two other makeup artists who work with him; Mila and Cecily. They're both more experienced than him and choose to poke fun a lot, but in the end they all get along decent enough and know the silent boundaries.

"Hi Cecily," he greets with a smile as he walks into the room. She's got her pale blue hair tied up in a knot on her head, a thin white sweater covering her feeble torso.

It's only nine am and they've already got her working on some blonde's face. Harry empathizes with the model because he can barely stand people talking to him this early, better yet touching all over his face.

"Oh, hello little Harry," Cecily returns with a quick glance up. "You're here a little late, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, I let my alarm go off for a while and put myself in a bit of a hurry, but I'm here now, so," he shrugs.

He steps to his assigned station and cleans it up a bit, moving around some old Vogue magazines and tossing some dirty brushes to the side.

"Well, today's going to be fucking crazy so you might want to prepare yourself for a model in the next five minutes," she warns. "Don't know why an underwear shoot requires more work than one for Chanel or Burberry, but who really understands the fashion industry these days anyways?"

Instead of replying, he just groans, hoping that gets some point across. Cecily nods in understanding so he takes it as a success.

He watches her flutter different brushes around the blonde's face for a few minutes, marveling at how soft and quick her technique is. Harry prefers to go slow and take time to make sure it all sets perfectly together on whoever's face he's working on, but he figures her way must work just as well if she hasn't been fired for the six years she's been doing it.

His moment of peace is suddenly broken when a curvy brunette strides her way into the room and sets herself down on the chair in front of Harry. There's normally someone who comes in and gives guidelines on what the look should be based around, but since no one of the sort appears, he takes it as a rare free-for-all to do whatever his heart desires.

"What's your name?" He asks politely to make small talk and break some of the potential awkwardness.

"Marshia Bengavio," she states.

"Ah, fits you well. Very modern sounding," he says with a smile.

She looks up at him with a plain expression and doesn't speak again so Harry chooses to start his work rather than be hurt by her lack of response.

Her hair's been done so that loose waves and scattered curls fall around her face which really frames her soft features and rounded jaw. The pallet of eyeshadows on the vanity table provide a wide variety of bright choices, but he goes with a dark brown seeing as though the ads more than likely won't be in color anyways.

The brush slides across her eyelids, blending colors together to form an exaggerated smokey eye. He adds a heavy amount of mascara and thin eyeliner around the rim of her eyes to show off the glowing green.

She doesn't flinch at all when he starts dusting blush across her cheeks, sending it floating into the air. 

Her skin is already decently clear so Harry decides to just add a bit of concealer a shade darker than her skin time to highlight just under her cheekbones and below her chin. It sets nicely and he smiles to himself, thinking he's done a decent job.

Then, he suddenly remembers _lips_ and reaches out for one of the deep red lipsticks he's got stashed in the vanity's drawer. It's called _Midnight Rogue_ and he has no idea what it has to do with the color, but it's the one he chooses to glide across the model's lips.

Once it's coated her lips in a sticky, flat gloss, he checks her over once more before making a humming noise in the back of his throat.

"You're finished," he breathes out. 

The girl nods curtly and stands up, wobbling a bit in the heels she's already in. _Heels in an underwear ad_ , he thinks to himself. Apparently he hasn't been here long enough.

\----

A few models and a coffee run later, there's just a few left waiting for their turn to become beautiful. It's difficult for Harry to focus on doing guys' makeup when there's nothing covering their dicks apart from a tight piece of fabric, but he manages somehow and still gives off his typical charming vibe. Some guys wink or gave him clear looks of interest, but he sends them off anyways, not wanting to get in trouble for his sexual desires. 

The girls try to do the same but they don't get very far because anyone with eyesight can tell the small look of disinterest that appears on Harry's face when they do so. Sometimes they huff and stomp away, their heels clicking across the hardwood and other times they shrug and move on to the next guy they see as if it doesn't bother them at all.

"Do the models hit on either of you as much as they do me?" He asks to no one specific, a styrofoam cup of coffee held in one hand.

"No, they must just be so allured by your curls and dimples," Mila tells him jokingly. She came into the room about a half hour after Harry, explaining that she was catching up with the photographer who is an old friend of hers.

"Are you sure?" Cecily chimes in with a confused tone. "He's very boyish and soft, you'd think they'd want to go for more handsome and rugged. I think it must be the abnormally large hands."

"Oh shut up both of you, don't act like I'm a little boy. It's _obviously_ my dick that they're all trying to get at," he boasts with a grin.

Both of the women let out laughs mixed with looks of disgust, but go back to sipping at their caffeinated beverages and talking softly with each other. It's hard being the only male of the trio because he can't support a healthy conversation with either Mila or Cecily about fashion without eventually getting lost in the middle.

Luckily he doesn't have to stand alone much longer before another body is making it's way over to him. He looks up from his cup and nearly chokes when he catches sight of the guy.

It's a man standing at least an inch or so below Harry's height, white briefs and a sheer black robe flowing behind him as he walks towards Harry. As he gets closer, Harry takes in his positively luscious chestnut hair falling over his forehead and eyes that are so blue they look icy. He's the closest thing Harry thinks there is to perfection; or at least, the closest thing he’s seen with his own eyes.

"Salut! Est-ce que c'est toi l'artiste?" A voice asks, snapping Harry from his trance.

"Sorry?" He says dumbly.

" _Le maquilleur_ ," the beautiful boy repeats slowly. "Est-ce que c'est toi? 

So he's a beautiful _French_ guy. That definitely makes things a lot easier for Harry.

"I, um, don't speak French? But I'm doing your makeup if that's what you're wondering," Harry answers cautiously. He doesn't want to seem too stupid in front of him but he can't act like he understands what he's being told.

"Ah, bien!" The boy says as a smile spreads across his face. Harry's smart enough to at least know that he said 'good'. "I've spoken English for only a short time, so excuse my, ehm, _sound_ I think the word is."

Harry figures he means for Harry to excuse his pronunciation, but it's a ridiculous statement anyways. This boy's voice sounds so soft and intriguing, how could he just brush it off? 

"Won't be a problem," Harry replies with a small smile. "Would you like to sit down now?"

The boy's face brightens in surprise but then he glances down at the chair and nods. "Oh, oui!"

He moves forward and places himself down in the chair, sitting up tall and proper like he's been through this thousands of times before. Now that he's just inches away from Harry, he gets a clear look at the details of the guy's face.

He's got a sharp jawline with scattered patches of stubble, high cheekbones that look hand carved, long eyelashes that fan out when he looks around, and lips that are thin yet somehow beautifully full at the same time. He's positively sinful to say the least, if you add in the nice thighs and fit torso that Harry may or may not have had a quick glance at.

“C'est quoi ton nom, jeune homme?” He asks with a smile before pausing and furrowing his eyebrows. “ _Merde_ , sorry. What's your name?”

“Harry,” he replies. “And you?”

“Louis,” the boy replies. His accent sounds thick as he pronounces the name, adding emphasis to the pronunciation 'Lou-ie'.

“That name suits you well. It sounds very French-ish,” Harry tells him as he reaches out for foundation brush.

Louis cackles but quickly collects himself, looking up at Harry through his thick eyelashes. “French-ish.” Another snort. “I like the name 'Arry too, though.”

The way Harry's name falls from Louis' tongue makes him nearly weak at the knees. He breathes a silent sigh of relief when Louis closes his eyes as Harry starts brushing the soft foundation powder across his skin. He's not gotten even a minute into the makeup procedure when two quiet-but-not-quiet-enough gasps are heard from across the room.

“Is that Louis Tomlinson?” Cecily asks Mila, carefully eyeing Louis from the corner of her eye.

Mila doesn't try to be as discreet, completely turning her head and staring at Louis before dropping her jaw a little and letting her eyes widen. “It _is._ Fuck, how did Harry get him?”

“'Ow _did_ you get me, 'Arry?” Louis suddenly asks teasingly with a glance over to the two gawking girls.

They both stop talking and quickly look away, laughing to each other and blushing at the fact that they’ve been caught. Harry looks over at them and smirks even though they aren’t looking back. 

“I just got really lucky I guess,” Harry says smugly.

Louis chuckles lightly and closes his eyes again, silently willing Harry to continue with the makeup. Harry wishes there were an excuse for why he’s taking an even slower amount of time than normal to fix Louis up, but the real reason is that he doesn’t ever want to look away from Louis. His face is so nice and wonderful and it deserves to be marveled and softly touched all day long, hours on end.

There’s not much to do in the eye area other than smear a bit of wet eyeliner under Louis’ bottom lashes. The cheeks don’t take too long, Harry just subtly contouring Louis’ features so that his jaw is sharper and his cheekbones stand to be even more prominent. Finally, and sadly, he gets down to the last bit, having to pick a gloss color for Louis’ lips.

Normally he goes with a completely natural color for guys considering they’re, you know, _guys._ But now he says _what the hell_ and grabs a deep red, eyeing it over one last time before making a final decision.

“Do you mind if I touch your lips?” Harry asks quietly.

Louis gently smiles and shakes his head quickly. “Pas du tout.”

Harry takes that answer as enough of permission as any and swipes the tube of lipstick across the tip of his pointer finger. Just as quickly, he reaches his other hand out to softly pull Louis’ lip down and drags his red-coated finger across the bottom lip.

It’s soft under his touch and wet from where Louis has apparently been licking it. Harry continues to rub around, turning the nude pink into a color that subtly shows some red. 

The top lip is a bit more difficult to do, Harry having to instruct Louis to drop his mouth open so he can properly paint it. It’s a lot thinner than the bottom lip, but it’s still so nice to touch. He has to remind himself that it’s not normal to rub against a guy’s lip for two long if you’re not even certain that said guy is interested in your gender.

When he’s sure Louis’ lips are fully coated, Harry pulls back and gives them a glance over, making sure he’s gotten every spot evenly. They look great tinted red, drawing attention to themselves and complimenting Louis’ bright blue eyes. 

“Alright, I think you’re done now,” Harry tells him.

He watches as Louis opens his eyelids, revealing tired eyes. They change quickly to something more cheerful and captivating and he breathes out a content sigh.

“Wonderful, thank you ‘Arry,” he says.

Harry steps back to allow him to stand up and Louis does so, curling his bare feet so that his toes pop. He looks very petite compared to Harry and it makes his heart burst because he would be so easy to pick up and twirl around, maybe even easier to pin down while- no. No getting hard in front of hot French models.

“No problem, Lou-ie,” Harry mimics his accent and laughs.

Louis rolls his eyes - hopefully fondly - and looks back up at Harry, his eyelids drooped down a little so that they cast small shadows and make the blue turn darker. Completely unexpectedly, Louis suddenly stands up on his toes and drapes his arms across Harry’s shoulder, not letting go of their eye contact.

“Tu es un très beau garçon,” Louis says quietly. Then, he leans forward and presses his lips right to the side of Harry’s face, just below his cheekbone. 

Louis’ lips linger for a second and Harry knows he’s holding his breath but can’t get himself to breathe out. Slowly, Louis pulls back and smirks at Harry like he knows one of his deepest secrets and is threatening to tell it.

“I will see you later hopefully?” Louis asks innocently although his eyes shine with mischief.

“Yeah, yes, I think- hope. I hope,” Harry stutters out.

He wants to slap himself for being so stupid but Louis just chuckles and falls back down to his feet, holding them flat against the wood. A voice calls out from behind them, something about Louis needing to be on set, so he let’s go of Harry and slides the robe smoothly down his arms.

It falls quickly but he grabs it swiftly, holding it in his hand.

“Bye, ‘Arry,” Louis draws out before draping the robe over Harry’s shoulder.

He winks and turns around, leaving Harry to watch him as he saunters away, ass only covered with the white fabric that’s been killing Harry inside all day long. Half of his mind is malfunctioning but the other half is completely aware of what just happened. 

His conscious side takes over and he places a hand on the robe, opening his mouth. “Holy shit.”

\----

Hours later, when the whole shoot is winding down and the studio is clearing out quickly, Harry remains in the same room he’s been in all day. He sits down in ‘his’ chair and scrolls through his phone, trying to take his mind off of Louis and not psych himself up for something that might not even be really happening.

Mila and Cecily left just a few minutes ago with quick kisses to Harry’s head and teasing remarks about what they saw between him and Louis earlier. He just replied with some smart remarks about them being jealous and they walked away, shaking their heads and talking quietly to themselves. 

It’s when he goes to like a picture of a small puppy on Instagram that there’s a soft knocking from behind him, causing him to quickly jerk his head up. He internally sighs when he sees that it’s Louis, now wearing black briefs that are the exact same style as the white ones from before.

“Salut, pretty boy,” Louis grins as he walks in and over to Harry.

“You’re calling _me_ a pretty boy when you’re the one wearing makeup,” Harry points out.

Louis just laughs and stands in front of Harry with his arms crossed. “You know you’ve got my mark on your cheek.”

“Hm?” Harry doesn’t get what he means by that. His ‘mark’?

“Oui, right here,” Louis says and reaches forward to place a finger right below Harry’s cheekbone.

Immediately knowing what Louis is talking about now, Harry spins around to face the mirror and tilts his head so that his cheek is in view. Louis wasn’t lying; there’s a smudge of red lipstick at the spot where he kissed Harry’s cheek earlier and Harry hadn’t noticed it all day since it was put there.

“You little shit,” he grumbles out, wiping his hand to get the stain off.

“Not a little shit.” He can see Louis pouting behind him in the mirror.

“A teasing and beautiful little shit, actually.”

This seems to get a rise out of Louis and his grin returns, taking over his whole face. He saunters around the chair so that he’s facing Harry and grabs onto his bicep, tugging until Harry gives in and stand up.

“Empty room down the hall with a couch,” he mutters out, looking ironically innocent.

“Let’s go then,” Harry says.

He leads them out of the room and down the hall, cautiously looking around to make sure that there’s no one around to catch them. Luckily, the studio is nearly empty now apart from a few workers collecting clothing items and trying to gather bags and other various personal belongings.

The room that Louis was talking about is completely empty, but not in a scary way. It’s empty in the sense that it’s never used, with silver clothing racks and perfectly polished floors, clear mirrors and chairs without creases or indents in them.

After they’ve shut and locked the door, Louis grabs Harry and pushes him down onto the black leather couch, the sound of it squeaking making both of them laugh. He swiftly places himself on top of Harry’s lap with his thighs sitting on either side of Harry’s thighs.

“Ça fait vachement du bien,” Louis says and Harry doesn’t know what it means, but the way it rolls off of Louis’ tongue makes him interested.

Finally, Louis ducks down and his lips against Harry’s, not bothering to wait before sucking on Harry’s bottom lip. Harry groans and opens his mouth; a mistake that allows Louis to quickly take full control of the kiss.

Louis sucks one last time on Harry’s lip before licking his way inside his mouth, his tongue smoothly gliding against the roof of Harry’s mouth, his teeth, the inside of his cheeks. Harry can taste Louis, traces of strawberry and mint on his tongue from the fruit they lay out as snacks and the mints that are always passed around at some point during the day. It’s wonderful and he hopes the taste never leaves his mouth.

Harry tries pushing back against Louis’ tongue, both of them trying to obtain dominance, but clearly Louis knows what he’s doing because he bites down on Harry’s lip and it makes him lose all need to keep fighting. He let’s his mouth be taken over and moves his lips against Louis’, just enjoying the feeling of it all.

“Such soft lips,” Louis breathes out when he pulls back to breathe.

“Nothing compared to yours, sweetheart,” Harry quips back.

They meet each other’s eyes then and both lean back in for more, not going all out this time and instead just opening and closing their lips repeatedly, a kiss just a step up from sweet. It doesn’t take long for Harry to start getting hard, his dick pushing at the zipper of his pants. 

Clearly Louis feels it because he smirks against Harry’s lips and starts grinding his hips down sinfully slow, dragging them right where Harry’s dick rests. Harry moans and pulls back from Louis’ lips to look down between them.

Louis’ own dick is prominent in the underwear, bulging out and creating a crystal clear outline. He’s not ashamed either, just watches Harry gawk and reaches down to resituate himself.

“You’ve still got your sweatshirt on, that’s not very fair,” Louis frowns. His accent sounds thicker than normal and Harry guesses it’s because he’s getting turned on.

“Pull it off of me,” Harry orders, reaching his arms above his head.

Louis rolls his eyes but grabs the hem nonetheless and pulls it upwards until he can’t reach any higher. Harry yanks his arms out from the rest and tosses it to the side. 

“Pants?” Louis asks, eyeing down at the bulge making itself noticeable in the tight jeans.

Harry nods as if it’s an appropriate response and lifts his hips up, popping the button open and unzipping the fly. He starts to pull them down but Louis smacks his hand out of the way and grabs them himself, slowly guiding them down and leaving them to bunch up in the middle of his thighs.

This gives a good opportunity for Louis to be a tease and lean forward further, pressing his crotch into Harry’s and grinding down roughly. Harry let’s out an embarrassing high pitched noise in the back of his throat and drops his jaw, grabbing Louis’ hips with both of his hands. He circles his thumbs into the prominent bones harsh in hopes that he leaves bruises to remind Louis of this moment.

Louis continues rolling his hips quickly then suddenly scoots backwards and leans down, his nose trailing against Harry’s chest. One of his small hands falls down into Harry’s lap and starts rubbing at his cock while his tongue gently licks over Harry’s right nipple, making the younger boy shiver in pleasure.

“Fuck, Louis,” he groans out and digs harder into his hips. 

This encourages Louis to go harder and faster, his hands rubbing up and down his cock through the fabric of his briefs and his mouth no taking Harry’s nipple in full. Louis swirls his tongue around and sucks, reveling in the soft moans Harry lets out.

He figures he shouldn’t let Louis do all the work and let’s go of one side of his hip to reach down and into Louis’ underwear, brushing over his hard dick. Louis let’s out a dirty groan now and bucks forward into Harry’s hand to get more pressure.

After lifting his hand up to spit in it, Harry pulls down the elastic of Louis’ underwear and wraps his hand fully around Louis. The French boy moans and nips at the small bud of Harry’s nipple unexpectedly. Harry let’s out a small ‘ah’ and starts moving his hand up and down in a slow, teasing way. 

Louis’ hand is still rubbing against him but now he releases Harry’s nipple to yank down Harry’s underwear like his own and take Harry into his hand. He groans at the sight of Harry’s dick and barely manages to let go and lick his palm a few times before he starts pumping the same as Harry, both of them alternating up and down beats.

Harry can’t help but move his hand from Louis’ hip to his ass. He can’t help but squeeze and knead at it, feel it tense beneath his fingers. Louis seems to like it too because he jerks Harry quickly a few times as if he doesn’t even realize he did so.

“This feels so fucking great,” Louis says through gritted teeth. “Feels so, so good.”

“I know,” Harry agrees between deep breaths.

It’s quite embarrassing, but he’s already getting close. It might be the fact that Louis’ speaking French or just that he’s extremely hot and fucking amazing at pleasuring. Harry doesn’t care, he’s just trying to hold off for as long as possible.

Looking down at Louis’ dick isn’t the best idea because the sight of it red and throbbing in his large hand doesn’t do anything but add to the pressure building in his stomach. His dick being worked through Louis’ palm isn’t any better at all so he decides looking just at Louis’ face might be the best idea.

Harry thumbs over the head of Louis’ cock, swiping the precum and using it to rub quicker. Louis’ face scrunches up in pleasure and he let’s out a few words in his mother language that Harry doesn’t understand.

Louis looks beautifully when he’s in bliss, his hair falling down over his eyes and his mouth permanently open to form an ‘o’ shape. Harry wishes he could do this more often, _really_ hopes he’ll be able to do it more often after today.

Like Louis can read Harry’s mind and knows that he’s close, he leans forward and sucks lightly at the crook of Harry’s neck. He licks for a second and then bites down, sucking and biting before letting go again and soothing it over with his tongue. There’s going to be a mark there later for sure and Harry honestly can’t be bothered to care.

“I’m really going to- I’m close,” Harry manages to get out.

Louis presses his face into the same spot where he was biting and breathed deeply, pumping his hand as fast as he can without hurting Harry due to their lack of actual moisturizing substance. It only takes a few more strokes before Harry is mumbling out incoherently and coming, shooting the hot, white substance over Louis’ hand and his own stomach.

“So beautiful,” Louis groans out in his accent before he starts moaning loudly and thrusting forward, coming himself.

He releases over Harry’s hand and part of Harry’s pants but they both keep stroking slowly until finally they’re out of breath. Louis carefully picks himself off of Harry and throws himself down beside him, molding into the couch.

“Ever done that with a French model before?” Louis asks smugly, nudging Harry’s side with his elbow.

Harry just shoves him away and laughs breathlessly. “Don’t get too cocky, you seemed to be enjoying yourself a lot.”

“Never said I didn’t enjoy it,” he responds.

Harry sits up now and stretches his arms and legs out like a cat. Louis mimics him and Harry tries not to snort at how Louis doesn’t reach out as far as him.

“So was this a one time thing?” Harry asks, trying to mask the bit of sadness hidden in his voice.

“Well, I’ll be here for the next four months so _nous allons voir ce qui se passe_ ,” Louis says with a smirk.

Harry doesn’t understand what that means and probably never will, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s hoping it’s a promise. The look on Louis’ face when he glances over tells him that it definitely is one.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> if you want to talk to me i'm strong on ao3, @daddyhair on twitter, and louwie on tumblr


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